


rebirth

by apricae



Series: the zenhwa collection [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Buddhism, Established Relationship, F/M, Philosophy, Rare Pair, Religious Discussion, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricae/pseuds/apricae
Summary: a complicated conversation on a rooftop between one who has no past and one who has no future.
Relationships: Tekhartha Zenyatta/Seung-hwa "Overlord" Shi
Series: the zenhwa collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091447
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> for reesa.

“Do you ever wonder what you’ll get reborn as?”

Zenyatta does not answer for a long time. They’re shoulder-to-shoulder on the roof, the wide expanse of metal stretching around them like an endless plain; there’s only them, the wind, and the sea. 

Seung-hwa glances sidelong at him, watching him think. She’s learned, now, how to decipher the subtle flickering of his array, the tiny cyan pulse familiar. He considers her question seriously, watching the waves reflect the last golden light. Above the rim of the horizon, the sky fades to blush-pink, lavender, endless deep-blue.

“I do not.” Zenyatta pauses, steeples his fingers. “It will come when it comes. Not any time soon, I hope,” he chuckles, the sound soft. “I find it fruitless to dwell on what has been and what will be.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Seung-hwa stares at her sneakers.

“I think about it, sometimes,” she admits. “I think about- What if I’m reborn as one of them? What if- What if, because of my actions in _this_ life, I’m reborn to the Gwishin?”

The words float onto the wind, her fear spilled out quiet and soft. She feels naked, somehow, baring this to him, but she’s been naked before. He has never turned her away, never seen a part of her and found it displeasing. 

“An interesting line of thought.” As always, Zenyatta takes everything in stride. “Do you fear that outcome?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I do.”

He gives her time. Somehow, he always knows when she needs to sort her thoughts, to string order into her words. Zenyatta is patient, watching the last light slip away below the dark sea. 

“I don’t actually _know_ if they are alive. Sometimes I- When I see the wrecks, I think about it. If they are alive like me. If they- If they think about me the way I think about them. If they feel pain.” Her breath hitches, catching on this terrible thought she’s let fester in her chest.

“What if all along, I was killing them- And they’re _alive_ -”

Zenyatta hums, and she can’t look at him.

“Then that means you wish to understand another being. A desire to know something so different from yourself is a beautiful thing.”

Seung-hwa drops her head onto her knees, eyes closed, as something hot and frightening and sharp fights its way up her throat.

“Am I a bad person if I _don’t_ want to know?”

She does not hear him moving, but suddenly there are arms around her. Taking the offered lifeline, she turns her face in against his shoulder; her breath keeps catching, shallow and quick in her chest, like she’s drowning. Below them, the sea that will eat her one day roars against the metal struts of the MEKA base.

“It is a lot, isn’t it?” Zenyatta’s hand is firm and secure between her shoulder blades, and she hides against him, curls into his body heat, stifling a sob.

“You imagine their pain, and it aches. It is alright, my love. Breathe.”

She breathes, tears hot on her cheeks. Like this, held, she is allowed to be small. She knows.

“If you are reborn such,” he says, continuing a line of thought from earlier as he habitually does, “I will love you still.”

Zenyatta never demands answers. He takes, and gives, and endures her pain; she crashes against him like the waves, and he stands strong against the flood. She loves him. She loves him.

“You know,” she says softly, voice raw. “I think I know where we came from.”

“Oh?” He sounds surprised, intrigued.

Seung-hwa kisses his shoulder, leaning into him, taking his hand. Their fingers interlace, a tether, an anchor. Blue veins and grey metal.

“There’s iron in me, and iron in you. I think we came from the same star.”   
  
He laughs, and it is a sound of delight.

“Perhaps one day we shall return.”


End file.
